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Clone Armor Analysis
Scattershot says, "Now, Ah've got to admit Ah didn't realize something high stakes was happening. Perceptor told me about the mission and Ah just heard a bunch of science words." Perceptor can be heard sighing heavily. Lightspeed says, "Yes sir. *sound of another cigar being lit.*" Saboteur Foxfire says, "That's bad for you, Lightspeed..." Lightspeed says, "I don't smoke, Foxfire." Saboteur Foxfire says, "Then why am I hearing cigars being lit?" Lightspeed says, "*sound of another Cigar being lit* Oh? Must be hearing things, certainly not hearing rare cigars being lit and then put on the ground, sir." Torque says, "Sorry for the delay. What's up, Scattershot?" Scattershot says, "Medical on full alert for the arrival of Perceptor's team, Doc." Saboteur Foxfire says, "Riiight." Torque says, "Already on it." Velum says, "Rare cigars? Are you mad??" Warpath is plunked atop a repair table, waiting to be fixed. "I tell you, we BLAM, smashed the Decepticons up good," he tells everyone who is in audio-shot, "Too bad we couldn't ZING, keep them from taking something. What did they end up taking, anyway?" Cybertronian Hovercar carelessly walks into the Repair Bay, her attention on picking at a bullet hole in her shoulder. Almost bumping in a medtable, she gives off a soft snort of satisfaction as she extracts the small, battered lump that was one of Contrail's hail of machine gun bullets and tosses it with skillful accuracy into a disposal unit. "I'm not bad, Percy," she offhandedly comments. "I can wait." Bluestreak sits on a berth, kicking his legs against it as he waits for Perceptor to come around. Cybertronian Hovercar transforms into her Moonracer mode. Perceptor determines that the injuries aren't terribly severe for any of them. But it seems Moonracer is more willing to wait. "Very well, then." He nods and moves over to Warpath, beginning to work on some of his damaged armor. Combat: Perceptor expertly repairs Warpath's injuries. Combat: Perceptor is able to repair some of Warpath's internal systems damage. Hardhead quietly slides into the repair bay as he surveys the gathering of damaged Autobots. Slowly, he moves around the damaged Autobots, greeting all of them and engaging in small talk with those who can speak. Blurr zips into the room, suddenly appearing at the supply racks as if he just teleported there. He begins unloading a variety of repair tools and accessories, quicker than the eye can follow. "SomanydamagedAutobots, soverylittletime!" "Oh POW, hey Blurr," Warpath says, "Been ZOOM, dodging Decepticons? You should have seen how we all BLAM, blew some Decepticons to scrap." Moonracer laughs. "Right. Like Warpath here said, you should see the other guys!" For now, she sits in an ordinary chair to wait her turn, fidgeting with the bullet holes. The slash in her shoulder, a memento from that looney Decepticon doctor, she doesn't touch. Bluestreak has a gash from Contrail's whip attack that got him pretty good. All the other injuries were minor, at least to him. "It's okay at least we put up a fight we even managed to knock one unconscious which is always cool you know." Perceptor also has a pretty nasty gash on his back from the same weapon, and it is especially visible now as he is bent over Warpath, busy rewiring some severed circuits and cables. He could probably use a few repairs, himself... Perceptor says, "Yes, I believe the Decepticons suffered heavier casualities, however they managed to achieve their objective." Bluestreak frowns at Perceptor's wound. "You should get that checked out Perceptor, that one is the worst injury we both got." Hardhead moves over towards the gathering of name Autobots. He looks over the wounds, noticing the similarity in the gashes. He points to the one on Perceptor's back. "What caused that?" He asks bluntly. "Oh, that'snotgoodatall," Blurr laments, feeling somewhat guilty about not being at the fight itself. He frets and paces nervously, occasionally overstocking a shelf or pacing around and around and around and around one med table, then visiting the next one and doing the same thing. "An energy-based melee weapon." Perceptor answers matter-of-factly. "It was quite effective both in damage caused and accuracy." He says, as he recalls how Contrail managed to strike everyone with it. "One of them Decepticons, she POW, whipped us good," Warpath says, "Like a Domini-matrix or whatever the humans call it." Bluestreak shows Hardhead the same wound, except it was on his front. "In short, one very effective whip." Moonracer quits her fidgeting and reassures more seriously, "We'll get it back, Percy. We have to." Her bright blue optics thoughtfully examine the slash on Perceptor's back, but she doesn't comment. Instead, she stands up and carefully tests her arm and shoulder motion to see if they're impaired. Ouch, but they work. Hardhead looks at Blurr. "Make sure you get your vocalizer fixed, trooper." He offers a very small, friendly smile to indicate it was a joke. He then nods to Warpath, Perceptor, and BLuestreak. "Which one was wielding it?" He peers into Bluestreak's wound. "Hmmmmm...does the pain seem to linger? Or do the auto-repair systems numb the pain?" Blurr blinks. "ButitISfixed. Imeanitwasbrokenbutit'sfixednow! It'sfinenow, muchbetterthanitwasbefore," he answers Hardhead, until he realizes it was a joke. "OH. Heheheh." "It hurts if I make a sudden move, but the auto-repair seems to have dulled that pain since last night." Bluestreak told Hardhead, he looked at Perceptor again. He notices that Perceptor doesn't say much, but he could tell the scientist was feeling down about how the mission ended. "Sadistic, cruel, and painful...standard Decepticon weaponry." He pats Bluestreak on his good shoulder. "Do we have any idea how the Decepticons found about the Anti-Matter?" He looks at Blurr and gives him a wider smile and a nod. "It was a Decepticon with designation Contrail who wielded it, I believe." Yes, Perceptor is definitely feeling a bit discouraged about the catastrophic result of what was supposed to be a simple maintenace mission. He finishes up with Warpath and moves over to Moonracer. "I suggest you lay still upon a berth, it will expedite repairs." "Oh I can, sure," Warpath says, "As long as I can still ZING, move my face plate." He lets his repairs settle in and leans back, relaxing. "Did I ever BLAM, tell you about the time I nailed Ramjet? Broke his entire nosecone, ha ha!" Hardhead nods his head as he rubs his jaw. "Contrail..." He looks back at the others. "Was your ship followed? Or did it appear that the 'Cons were in wait?" "It looked like they were in wait Hardhead." Bluestreak spoke up. "I do not know." Perceptor shakes his head again. "They ambushed us..." "From how they suddenly appeared and everything." Bluestreak waved his arms around as he spoke then, "OW!" He put a hand on the gash from his sudden flailing movement. Combat: Perceptor expertly repairs Moonracer's injuries. Combat: Perceptor is able to repair some of Moonracer's internal systems damage. Hardhead nods his head. "In wait." He looks around the room. "Interesting...I wonder if there is a leak..." Perceptor sighs as he does what he can for Moonracer, then moves on to Bluestreak, who has suffered significantly more damage than the others, as a more detailed analysis reveals. "Antimatter is extremely volatile in conjunction with the posimatter that is copious in this dimension. The Decepticons -will- attempt and most likely succeed in weaponizing it...I fear the worst, Hardhead." "Thanks, Percy," Moonracer says quietly. "You should look after yourself, too, mech. We'll need you when we go after the Decepticons and whatever weapon they make. Do we have any spies or infiltrators that can get into their labs?" She doubts it, but she's just a sniper and doesn't know what the commanders have available. "Whatkindofleak? Who'sleakingwhat??" Blurr glances around nervously. He'd never in a million years believe that a fellow Autobot was leaking information to the Decepticons. "Nah, probably just ZING, Ratbat spying on us or something," Warpath opines, "Or one of POW, Soundwave's other filthy little cassettes. Why haven't we BLAM, figured out traps for them yet?" Hardhead looks at the others. "A computer virus...perhaps inside the Ark. They computer systems are tied together?" Perceptor shrugs, examining the gash in Bluestreak's armor. "I do not know if it is a leak. Warpath's hypotheses are likely to be true. Perhaps a Decepticon spy was present on the planet when we discovered the phenomenon. Or...perhaps a malicious program uploaded to the Ark or to Metroplex." Moonracer asks, "Wasn't there some Decepticon activity at the Ark not too long ago?" Bluestreak sits as still as possible as Perceptor examines the gash, as long as he doesn't poke at it, he's good. "Yeah, that mini Galvatron... " Hardhead nods to Moonracer. "Yes...perhaps that was the Decepticons real objective, the Clone was just a diversion." Moonracer shrugs - more freely now. "There was also New York. Was that the same mini-Galv, or are they reproducing?" Now there's a horrid thought. She shudders first and then snickers quietly at the image of an army of little Galvies. "Perhaps. But I have doubts that the clone was actually created by the Decepticons. The members of their ranks that I witnessed appeared to have not been privy to it. However, I suppose that does not eliminate the possibility." Perceptor carefully begins reconnecting some circuitry within the gash, as deftly and delicately as possible. Hardhead scowls. "Primus, I hope there wasn't more of them..." He looks around. "We need to learn more about these clones." "Any corresponding old damage on the second version that compares to the first?" the green femme asks. "You're right, we don't want an army of these guys running around. I wonder where it'll strike next... I doubt it would attack Autobot City, so that means it's going to continue going after human targets. New York, maybe Washington D.C. or Los Angeles next?" Perceptor says, "I have since determined that the clone's armor is composed of a tranisition metal originating from the planet of Junk." Blurr looks stunned at Perceptor's findings. Blurr says, "NoWAY. No, noway, nohow, theJunkionswouldNOTbedoingthis! TheyareourFRIENDSandALLIESandtheywouldn'tdothisCLONEthinginamillionyears!!" Hardhead looks at Moonracer and nods his head. "Hmmmm...I don't know...it seems personal, I wonder what else on this planet has significant to the Autobots." He looks at Perceptor. "It was a Junkion? Or made out of the same stuff." Moonracer stares at the scientist with wide optics. "From Junkion? We really need to have a chat with our good friends, maybe an expedition. I don't believe for a minute that they're involved, but they don't necessarily know everything going on on their planet." "Now, now...we should not come to hasty conclusions. Simply because its outer armor originated from Junkion does not immediately give rise to the conclusion that a Junkion was responsible for this or intended for it occur exactly as it did." Perceptor says as he begins welding Bluestreak's gash shut. "But, yes...perhaps we should have a word with them..." "TheJunkionsarebeingFRAMED, there'sjustnootherexplanation, theywouldn'tdothisandthat'safact!" Blurr seems more agitated than ever that the Junkions would have anything at all to do with this Galvatron clone. "It'sframing, they'rebeingframed, it'satotalframejob...!" "Whoa, whoa, Autobots. I don't think anyone's accusing the Junkions. I don't know what's going on any more than you do, but I know they aren't behind this." Moonracer begins pacing back and forth in the limited space, frowning in thought. "But... it's a clue. A clue that points to the planet of Junk. Good job on figuring that out, Percy," she finishes with a smile. Ultra Magnus leans in from the doorway, overhearing Blurr's string of run-ons indicating their slightly cooky Junkion cousins. "Easy there, Blurr." the City Commander replies, striding towards the far wall. Giving Perceptor a 'what are you inciting' look, he blankly asks outright. "What are you implying here?" "We did what to the who now?" Sit-Com says, entering the room with the laugh track from his wrist-TV playing. After the laughter is the requisite audience whooping and clapping. Perceptor finally finishes welding Bluestreak's gash, ensuring that it is completely sealed before standing up, if a bit shakily, to salute Magnus. He's now the only one who hasn't yet been repaired. "Nothing, Ultra Magnus. I have completed preliminary analyses on the sample procured from New York City, New York, as well as exeucted several cross-referencing algorithms. The replica's armor is composed of an alloy originating from Junk." Hardhead tilts his head towards Ultra Magnus and gives him a polite nod as he looks back at the others. "Didn't we receive a shipment from the Junkions? Was anything lost or stolen from that? Were any transports listed as destroyed or missing?" Blurr looks at Magnus unhappily, but he does seem to calm down a bit. When Sit-Com sidles into the room, Blurr zips over to his side in almost a big-brother protective fashion. Of course, there's nothing to protect him FROM, but Blurr has always gotten along golden with the Junks, and he sees no reason to change that now. "Good thinking Hardhead, though I suspect this has been in the works much longer than that." Ultra Magnus nods along to the Military XO, folding his arms across his chest. "But see through with it, I believe Fortress Maximus would have the relevant files to cross check against this sample.. if anything comes up missing." "That's all you've come up with, it's from Junk?" he asks Perceptor. Bluestreak looks as Magnus comes in, saluting him, then giving a silent thank you to Perceptor. He eyes Percy's gash, wondering if he would let him seal that up. Hardhead nods to Ultra Magnus as he crosses his arms over his chest as he ponders...he probably hurt something. Moonracer nods respectfully and steps back towards the wall to make room for Mr. Large and In Charge. The Repair Bay is getting a bit crowded. "Hi, Sit-Com. Any thoughts on all this? Looks like you may have been robbed." She keeps her tone light, hoping the mech doesn't think she's accusing him or the Junkions. Perceptor shakes his head, then draws a datapad from subspace, beginning to go through some of the results he'd obtained from the sample. "A cross-sectional analysis revealed that it was formed from many layers of thin sheets, all of them compressed together to form a rather dense composition." Sit-Com puts on a pair of sunglasses. "Well, then, I guess we'd better find out who's been robbing us blind." YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH *dunt dunt* Perceptor places the datapad down on a table, and it projects a holpgraphic diagram of what he's just described. "The sample was minimal at best. If I had been allowed to examine its internal systems, I could have managed to derive more conclusive results." "That's all you've come up with, it's from Junk?" he asks Perceptor. Moonracer shrugs. "Maybe we'll get a better sample for you next time, Percy, though I hope there's not a next time. So. It's the density of its armor that made it so tough?" She thinks about the implications and asks, "Can we duplicate it? Might be handy to have better armor, or does the mass make it too much?" Sit-Com peers at the datapad. "I see," he says, "Istanbul was Constantinople. Now it's Istanbul, not Constantinople. Why'd Constantinople get the works? It's nobody's business but the Turks." "Can you come up with list of known scientists and other such professional study that could lead to the origin of this armor?" Ultra Magnus asks Perceptor, turning to look at Moonracer. "I think finding out who this threat is, is the more pressing matter at hand." "A comprehensive list of all entities in the known galaxy with the potential to create such a threat?" Perceptor questions Magnus. "Or just among the Decepticons?" Moonracer nods, abashed, as Magnus steers her back on track. "Well, it sounds like the Decepticons were baffled, too. Maybe it's a trap by some outsider. Quintessons? They're still out there. Might even be something as trivial as some gambler who doesn't want us competing in the Olympics because they bet on someone else." "Just Decepticons for now, Perceptor. With their loose alliance from New York City and the absence of evidence pointing to the contrary, I'd rather we focus on them first." Ultra Magnus replies. "Conspiracy theory much, Moonracer?" the City Commander rather bluntly states, somewhat surprised look on his face. Moonracer drops her gaze and shuts up now, though she still thinks that she *could* be right. Perceptor nods at Moonracer, noticing her discouragement. "It is possible, although unlikely." He then turns back to Ultra Magnus. "Yes, I will do so as soon as possible. The presence of dissention within the Decepticon ranks would not come as a surprise." Sit-Com goes around to fix those who need fixing, "You know just yesterday, I saw a Predacon in my pajamas. How he got in my pajamas, I'll never figure out." Combat: Sit-Com runs a diagnostic check on Perceptor Combat: Sit-Com expertly repairs Perceptor's injuries. Combat: Sit-Com is able to repair some of Perceptor's internal systems damage.